


Tangled Up In Blue (And Thinking of You)

by Scarletvirtue



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarletvirtue/pseuds/Scarletvirtue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless PWP masturbation porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Up In Blue (And Thinking of You)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [slashxmistress](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slashxmistress/pseuds/slashxmistress)'s incredible story [Laundry Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/221716).
> 
> The story of what happened to Ryan's silk scarf - from Brendon's side.

It usually took Brendon about 3-5 days to fully re-acclimate to being home from touring life: time to get back to sleeping alone – without the racket of band mates that sometimes kept him awake. Back to eating actually good food – not the hit-or-miss fare that could be made more palatable with a beer or some other “adult beverage”. Consistently hot showers – and clean clothes. Well, clean clothes as soon as he unpacked his suitcases and washed what was inside.

In the process of unpacking, he didn’t notice that his maroon shirt was missing until he went into actively sorting out the clothes. The long-sleeved shirt had become his favorite over time; it was soft from the outset and he really enjoyed the way it felt against his skin, seeming to brush against his nipples *just so*.

He didn’t suspect any of his band mates of swiping the shirt – it probably wouldn’t fit Spencer, no offense meant; Jon didn’t really like many of Brendon’s clothes, and Ryan probably wouldn’t have taken it. So he figured that most likely it was left at a venue or hotel somewhere.

Yet, during his futile search, he located the blue silk scarf that Ryan had purchased in Paris. He sat down on his bed, the scarf wound loosely in his hands. The silk was cool in his hands and looked to be a deep indigo blue. When he unwound and spread out the scarf, the color appeared to be more of a royal/navy blue. And it looked amazing on Ryan – his face always lit up when he was wearing it.

Brendon took off his shirt and picked up the scarf again, wrapping it loosely around his neck and putting an end of it up to his face. He inhaled Ryan’s scent – warm and a little musky, with a lingering trace of pot smoke for good measure, it seemed. And the silk felt so nice against his bare skin…

Another deep inhalation, and his cock stirred. There was something about Ryan – it didn’t hit him at first, since he looked like some trying a little too hard emo hipster kid. But Brendon found it to be oddly endearing, and would be lying if he said that he didn’t occasionally jerk off while listening to Ryan doing it on the bus – his moans and the noise of skin on skin from the bunk above his could be rather arousing.

Shaking his head, he cleared his mind of those distractions and focused on the more important things: seeing Ryan naked and how over time, he really wanted to do more than just see him naked. He’d find himself thinking of jerking each other off; being so horny that they’d only get so far as rutting against each other, rubbing cocks until they came in their pants, sometimes he liked to think about sucking Ryan’s cock. And oh God…that really had Brendon aching to touch himself.

The pants and boxers came off in a rush, and he groped for his bottle of lube on the nightstand. A few drops of the lube on his cockhead melded with the pre-cum already leaking from the slit, and he was good to go.

Starting slowly, he stroked himself with one hand occasionally teasing a nipple or holding Ryan’s scarf to his face. He imagined being on his knees in front of Ryan, looking up at him worshipfully before taking that gorgeous cock in his mouth.

Imagining Ryan grabbing and yanking at his hair, fucking his face, moaning and babbling about him being a “cum slut” and a “cock whore”. Brendon stroked harder, faster, with the image of Ryan pulling out of his mouth, coming all over his face and calling him “my dirty little slut” driving him over the edge, hips rising off the bed and cum splashing over his stomach and chest.

 

He was lying in bed, sprawled out and sated - while across town, Ryan was in a laundry room, in Brendon’s favorite maroon shirt in a similar state of post-orgasmic satiety.


End file.
